


Lucky

by assasinduckie



Series: No words needed [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, wallowing in the pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assasinduckie/pseuds/assasinduckie
Summary: Mustang is having trouble adjusting back to his life after the Promised Day.Hawkeye doesn't understand what's going on.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: No words needed [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790185
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is part of an ongoing series about Hawkeye and Mustang, trying to fill in the blanks the canon left us.  
>  This is all my personal headcanon, basically how I imagine things are between them by this time in the story.  
> Hope you enjoy!

He was drunk. Again. Havoc was next to him, talking to a woman and the woman´s friend was making eyes at him. And he was ignoring her. He just wasn’t in the mood. He hadn’t been, lately. Like, the past few years. Since he had asked her to work for him. It seemed like pretending to be a player was tiring enough to actually be one. There had been some exceptions throughout the years, of course. Mostly recently. But not tonight.

Maybe it was good that Havoc was busy. He would have an excuse to give her a call. He would need assistance walking back to his apartment. And she was so close… he liked the new accommodations. He suspected Grumman had something to do with it. Or maybe they were just lucky.

He laughed at himself. That was a stupid thought. Clearly, he was even drunker than he had thought.

Anyways, he couldn’t call her, there were too many militaries in this bar, and she wasn’t just his assistant anymore.

She had been promoted, as a reward for their little helping hand saving the country from becoming a giant philosopher’s stone. Thankfully, no one had been stupid enough to think of trying to send her to work somewhere else. At least here everybody knew they were joined by the hip. Strictly professionally speaking, of course.

Now the woman was walking towards him. Maybe he could get her to walk him home, and then scare her with some puking? God, he had fallen low.

But then he saw a glimpse of some blonde, long hair, through the bar’s main window. And he was up and moving.

He left some money on the table and headed for the door ignoring the hurt look of the woman who had just sat next to him and started talking.

“You´re leaving so soon boss?” asked Jean. “Yeah, I´m just tired.” He said while stumbling to the entrance to the best of his ability’s.

When he got outside, he looked around but couldn’t find her. Maybe she had taken a turn at the corner. Maybe it wasn’t her.

Still he walked in the direction she had seen the blonde hair move towards.

“First Lieutenant!” he shouted when he finally saw her, walking with Black Hayate on a leash, already half a block away. He really could recognize her anywhere, and the thought was comforting.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“I’m not first lieutenant anymore, Brigadier General”.

“oh, you’re wright. I forgot about that. Doesn’t seem fair though, considering I did most of the work, while you just told me were to shoot flames at and hugged me.” He said while leaning against the walls of a house for support.

She still hadn´t turn but he knew she was smiling.

“Care to assist me once more?” She finally looked back at him, smiling slightly.

“Do you need an escort, sir?”.

“It so happens that I do need one. It seems I can’t walk properly. Don’t know what has gotten into me. Maybe I’ve been poisoned.”

“And who would do that to you, sir?”

“Oh, I dunno, I have made an awful lot of enemy’s lately. Officers jealous of my new position, and there’s this girl that just keeps calling and calling, threatening to do things to me if I don’t take her on a date again.” He was just trying to make her jealous now. He really had fallen low.

The smile on her face dimmed a little, but there was no sign of anger in her voice when she answered, still teasing:

“But you love it when they do things to you, or so I’ve heard. You’ve got some weird tastes, that’s the word on town”.

That caught him off guard. He tried to think of something witty to say but nothing came to mind. So, after some weird silence, and when it was abundantly clear she had won that round, she walked to him and helped him back up on his feet.

They walked silently. He felt as if he had to explain. That had been a low-low for him. He had only asked that woman to cover her face so that he could pretend she was her. And he had only done it because he was particularly drunk and sad that night. Desperate to see her. He had even walked to her place, standed at front of the door, staring at her name next to the little button.

And then he had just walked away. Even at his lowest he knew he couldn’t. She would be so disappointed in him if he threw all their effort down the drain just for feeling a bit lonely on a drunken night.

So, he had walked a couple blocks until he found a bar, with a pretty girl that seemed interested in taking him home. He had been doing this, recently. After years of just pretending to be a playboy, he was actually doing the work for a change. And he always ended up hating it. 

The girl had been rather nice. Noticed from the beginning there was something off about him. So, she had asked him, if maybe he was into weird stuff, that she didn’t mind trying. He was about to assure him that was not it when his drunken brain came up with an idea. The main problem was that the girl from the bar had this beautiful curly black hair that he was founding really distracting.

It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but he had taken into pretending like he was with her whenever he picked up someone from a bar or such. If he could, he would choose girls that looked somewhat similar to her. That made it easier. Still, it was rarely any good.

He couldn’t understand why he was struggling so much. He had just been promoted. He was respected by many, even a hero to some. He was getting closer to his goal. He still had her by his side. But still, he couldn’t find happiness in any of those things.

At night it was worse. He just felt so terribly alone, at his big, quiet, empty apartment.

So, he asked her to cover her face and hair with the pillowcase. She had seemed fine about it, but then a couple days later everyone knew about this new “kink” of his. He had felt ashamed of people talking about his sex life for the first time in his life.

But he felt stupid confessing to this, he was sure she was just teasing. She would probably answer “I know” or “you don’t need to explain”, to any justification he could provide.

He had been careful to not show her how hopeless he had been feeling lately. He clearly wasn’t doing such a good of a job, if she had decided to walk the dog through that route. She was probably checking on him, he realised now.

When she finally left him at his apartment door, she had to help him open it when his double vision made him stump the key to the hard wood one too many times.

“Good night sir” She had said then.

He was going to say goodnight as well but for some reason he couldn’t. The words choked up on his throat. He turned around to look at her one more time, maybe just to smile at her and close the door.

But he had reached his hand to stroke her cheek instead. Now she was out of words.

It was a clumsy caress. And it only lasted a second. Then he whispered, “So lucky”, mostly talking to himself and closed the door.

He was drunk. Again. She could see him through the window, seated at the bar, next to Havoc and some woman, wi}th a pyramid of empty shot glasses in front of him.

She let out a long, exasperated sigh.

She had walked through that route knowingly, imagining he would be there. It was Saturday night after all and this had become somewhat of a routine for him, since they returned east.

Was he trying to regain his persona of idiotic playboy? It didn’t made sense anymore; he was out as the smart driven man he was after the whole Mrs Bradley affair. And the reconstruction of Ishval had only make him seem so much more like a responsible adult, ready to make amends and offer repair for his past actions, and not like the young witty social climber he had so long acted as.

Why was he struggling so much? After the weeks at the hospital, she thought he was feeling better. By the end of it he barely had any nightmares. And when she woke him, he would no longer cry on her shoulder, or asked her to stay in the bed with him, like the first weeks. She still did tho.

She had also struggled with the coldness of the hard hospital bed, too similar to the hard floor where she had almost bled out.

But when they were released and back to work, he had started again with the constant “dating” and drinking. Mostly the drinking. She didn’t get it.

She looked at him for a couple more seconds, trying to find the answer on his frowning face, and finally gave up.

But after she had taken a turn and was almost a full block away, she heard him calling.

Clearly, he had seen her and gone after her. It felt like a little surprise gift. She liked talking to him when he was drunk, it made him even _more_ of a flirt.

The interaction had been rather sassy, and packed up with tension, as they usually were.

He was so drunk he actually needed the assistance walking home. He was lucky he had seen her; she didn’t think that skinny woman in heels that kept making eyes at him would be strong enough to support his weight, and Havoc seemed too busy.

But maybe falling face to the ground and breaking his nose or something would make him reconsider this going out every week type of lifestyle.

She had been quite forward with her choice of words during the conversation, but still kept it pretty formal. That was their thing. And the following physical contact had been merely utilitarian.

So, it was a surprise when she saw him moving his hand towards her face. That was a different kind of forward. The one that was not allowed. She froze. What was he doing? 

And then he said that weird thank you. And _Oh_.

She got it now, she thought to herself, while hugging Black Hayate next to her on the big cold bed. He was just lonely.

Lucky for him, she wasn’t going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Hope you liked it!   
> This bit is based on the fact that even though I would like to believe that they manage to power through their tragic impossible love story, finding joy in just been able to see each other every day, I find it hard to think that there weren't some moments where they just couldn't.   
> This time Roy is having trouble getting back to his life after all the craziness that came before Promised Day and also their stay at the hospital (which I wrote about in Bad Dreams). He's full of sadness and also some self-pity. I don't think it lasted long but this is also the beginning of what I talk about in the first work of this series, No words needed, that happens about 10 years after this.   
> Anyways, just thought I’d add some context information.  
> A big big big thank you to my amazing Beta Millie_Jean, for reading the many times edited versions of this fic and being overall an amazing person, and the sole reason I dare to write and post fanfiction at all.   
> If you enjoyed this and would like to leave kudos and a kind comment, I would really appreciate it!


End file.
